


You Complete Git, Sherlock Holmes

by FlimJim123



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Humor, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-08
Updated: 2017-05-08
Packaged: 2018-10-29 13:25:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10854909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlimJim123/pseuds/FlimJim123
Summary: When Sherlock gets bored, shenanigans are abound: 1 gun, 1 housemate, 1 ridiculous coat and 1 landladyA fluffyish one-shot about a between-cases Sherlock and John, pre-RBFTagged smut just in case, but it's all (seemingly) innocent aha just read the fic my dudes





	You Complete Git, Sherlock Holmes

**Author's Note:**

> OBSERVE: a completely new-fangled, never-touched Sherlock concept ahaha ;)
> 
> I hope you enjoy this, I haven't written Sherlock fics before but have some fluff? I guess you can call it fluff its domestic and i need to add more tags what are you going to do bite me

It was silent.  
He was laid on the sofa with his feet hanging over the arm.  
He kicked off his shoes and closed his eyes.

Bored.

He whipped out a handgun from his pocket and aimed it at the man opposite him who was idly reading the newspaper.  
“John”.  
“Hhmpf?”  
_Evidently, he’d been distracted_. The armed man frowned and called again.

“John.”

The other man lowered his newspaper to see himself at gunpoint.  
_Yes,_ he thought, _what reaction would a normal person display upon finding themselves in this situation?  
_ John seemed disinterested.

“I won’t play your games you know. I’m not just an object for you to use you know… I”  
The armed man stood up and moved the gun to John’s head.

An army veteran like John should recognize a real gun; however the sudden shock that he may be shot hit him.

“Wh-what are you doing? Have you lost your mind?!”  
“How does it feel? What does it feel like to potentially live your last moments?”  
“You can’t be serious. Can you? This has got to be a joke… or… or an experiment. Yes that’s what it is. You’re testing me.”

John was babbling.

 _This was unlike John._  
He had previously seen guns.  
War.  
Death.  
And here he was. A slave to his fear.

The armed man pressed the fake barrel into John’s head and smiled.

He was going to die.

…-…

John closed his eyes and tried to control his erratic breathing.

He breathed in.

“ ** _Psychopaths get bored. One day we’ll be standing around a body and Sherlock Holmes will be the one who placed it there.”_**

He breathed out.

…-…

The armed man tossed the weapon into John’s lap.  
John opened his eyes and stared incredulously at the man casually returning to his previously horizontal position on the sofa.

“What the bloody _hell_ do you think you were doing?!”

John’s eyes were no longer fearful but were now glaring at the other man.

“What if your finger had slipped? You would have shot me! I’ve been there before. And I honestly thought-“  
“It’s a fake”  
“-you were going to… What?”  
“The gun. It’s a fake. I was under the impression that an ex-serviceman such as yourself would be able to recognize the obvious characteristics of a legitimate weapon in comparison to the one which currently resides in your lap. Upon inspection, one can see there is no serial number present. Secondly, the weapon is significantly lighter than that of the actual weapon. You yourself have used the same weapon on several occasions, yet when I threw it on your lap, you did not suspect a fake.”  
“I… I can’t believe you sometimes.”  
“Hmm? What did you say John?”

The man had already begun to close his eyes, seemingly sleeping.

“I…. cannot…. believe…. you.”  
“Why not John?

With those words, John lunged towards the man with his face contorted with rage. The man swiftly dodged and jumped over the arm chair, standing out of arms reach.  
“Get here you complete and utter bast-”  
"-Now, now John, there’s no need for coarse language.”  
“I will kill you!”  
“Oh really? You seemed under the impression that I would’ve to you first.”

John hopped around the armchair and snatched at the air as the taller man sidestepped across the room, again jumping over the other armchair. However, as he took the precaution of wearing a long coat, it happened to drape across the seat as he stepped over it.

John stood on his coat.

The man fell to the floor, giving John enough time to straddle him, pinning him to the floor.  
“Right you-”

Just as John planned to raise his fist, their landlady opened the door, which happened to be right in front of them.  
“Oh… oh! Boys, I am so sorry I walked in on you…”

She was blushing and she tried to close the door, but John got off the rather calm man and opened the door again, bringing her inside.

“Sorry, Mrs Hudson, I think you misunderstood-”  
“-Oh don’t you worry dear, Mrs Turner next door has married ones…”

Sighing and correcting her for the thousandth time, he turned and massaged his temples, apparently zoning out for a few seconds.  
“… and you see I really don’t have a problem with you boys… What are you doing on the floor?”

The man was still lying on the floor in the same position. John turned to Mrs Hudson to offer her an explanation, but she was already being beckoned by the man to crouch and listen to him. Her facial expression changed from one of concern to one of anger.  
“John! How could you be so cruel to him! Why did you throw him on the floor? You could have hurt him-!”

John stared in disbelief.

“-But it was him!”  
“-By doing that, you know what he is like, you need to settle your arguments like a proper couple!”  
“I am not gay Mrs Hudson!”  
“Whatever you say, John, but you need to come to terms with yourself one day.”

With that, she turned and left the flat and walked back down the stairs, closing the door behind her.

John looked at the man, who had sat up and was brushing flecks of dirt off his shoulders. He then, stood up and moved over to the sofa and flopped horizontally onto the cushions, before kicking off his shoes and pushing them over the arms. He picked up violin which had been knocked on the ground and moved the cheek piece towards him. With a smirk, he began to play a childish tune, synonymous with victory.

Shaking his head, John returned to his comfy chair and looked at the man.

_You complete git, Sherlock Holmes._

 

 

 

 


End file.
